


Breaking Down to Build Up

by setos_puppy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s05e22 Swan Song, M/M, old fic, two people in one body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 17:21:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14773899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setos_puppy/pseuds/setos_puppy
Summary: It's been five long months since the fight with Lucifer.  Then the phone rings.





	Breaking Down to Build Up

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old story being posted from my livejournal. It was written originally in response to the ending of season 5 and therefore does not reflect later seasons.

For the past five months Dean's dreams were plagued with nightmares of his brother in Hell. Crammed in a cage with a younger brother lost to all hope. Fighting in an endless cage match between bouts of indescribable torture. Sometimes Dean dreamed he was the one torturing Sam, enjoying himself, reveling in it, like Alistair had taught him.

 

Those nights were the worst.

 

Lisa stopped asking him how he slept within the first two weeks of his stay. Instead she just met him in the kitchen with a coffee, breakfast and a smile. She never pushed.

 

How was he supposed to describe losing the better half of his soul?

 

Today Lisa made apple-cinnamon pancakes with sausages. Dean smelled the food from the shower. The water was hot, scalding his skin, causing it to redden and peel away, he liked when it burned. He felt something.

 

It was after the shower, when the cold air cooled his skin, steam wafting up as he hid himself in his clothes that the numbness settled in.

 

~*~

 

"What'cha doing?"

 

Dean looked up from the candle flame. He was holding onto one of the fake IDs he used, pinched in his fingers over the small flame, watching as the heat melted through his face, burned it away. "Just burnin' stuff."

 

Ben's hands were shoved in his pockets, leaning against the railing of the stairs leading into the garage. Trying to act cool and casual, like Dean. Like who Dean used to be. "Can I help?"

 

Dean shrugged and Ben jumped down the steps and dragged over a crappy, plastic chair and knelt in it. He picked up one of the cards from the pile and held it over the flame. Dean watched, morbidly fascinated, as life flickered through the boy's eyes. He didn't care as the hot plastic dripped onto his hand, blistering up and bursting, leaving welts.

 

"Dean..." Lisa's voice was quiet and hesitant, drawing his attention from the tedium.

 

"Yeah." He peered up, over the flame, through the flame, at her.

 

"You have a phone call. It's..." She chewed on her lip, looking fraught with worry. "Important."

 

Abandoning the task after blowing out the candle Dean was in the house and to the phone by the fridge in under a minute. He picked up the phone resting on the small table beside a notepad and cradled it between his shoulder and ear.

 

"This is Dean."

 

There was heavy static on the other end of the phone, an endless garble of noise. High pitched tones and low, mindless, monotonous fuzz. Then suddenly it all stopped and there was a low, almost unheard whisper of his name. He _knew_ that voice. His heart stopped and he grabbed at the wall.

 

"Sammy?"

 

"Dean... Hurts..." The static was back, worse than before. "Dean... please..."

 

"Where are you?" Dean clutched the phone so hard he heard the phone shudder and creak under the pressure.

 

"Lawrence... Dean, hurry... I can't...." Sam's message was lost in static before the phone went dead.

 

Dean slammed the phone down and ran for the garage. He found the Impala already idling. He seriously owed Lisa. Without a thought he was in the car, throwing her into reverse and was gone.

 

~*~

 

He pushed and then decimated the speed limit the entire way. Made it there in under seven hours as opposed to the usual nine. He went to Stull Cemetery first, found the place half leveled in a familiar outward blast format. There was no tell tale hole in the ground, then again, there hadn't been a grave. The drive into town had been slow and tortuous. Dean kept his eyes out at every payphone, every street corner. He trundled into the city and through its familiar streets late. The moon was high, full, and casting eerie shadows over everything.

 

Where was Sam?

 

He swung down the street towards their house, practically crawling along in the car. His heart in his throat, his palms sweaty against the wheel. He pulled into the driveway, headlights on high beam, eyes sharply searching the area. He noted a silhouette slumped against the porch steps and hopped out of the car. 

 

"Sam!" He stopped at the steps, shaking the hunched over figure, making Sam stir. "Sam!"

 

"Dean?"

 

"C'mon." It took a bit of tugging but Sam finally stumbled to his feet, resting against Dean heavily, his eyes firmly clamped shut. "Open your eyes, Sammy."

 

"Hurts," Sam excused.

 

Sighing heavily, but unable to argue, afraid to argue, Dean hauled Sam's gigantor ass to the Impala and strapped him in. Sliding into the driver's seat Dean backed out of the drive way and headed for the nearest highway.

 

He needed to talk to Bobby.

 

~*~

 

"I've run every test and then a few new ones on him, he checks out."

 

Dean tipped the bottle of beer back and swallowed heavily. He eyed Sam, twitching in his restless sleep, mumbling to himself. He dug the heel of his free hand under one eye and sighed heavily. "What the hell."

 

"God?" Bobby supplied, looking lost.

 

"Now he decides to step in?" Dean muttered, finishing his beer in a few huge swallows.

 

"It wasn't God."

 

Dean whirled, looking to the couch, finding Sam sitting up, looking perfectly at peace with himself. "What?"

 

"I said, Dean, that it wasn't God."

 

Dean advanced in on his brother, with slow, measured steps. His voice was smooth, untroubled, soft. He watched as Sam's eyes tracked his movements, his head tilted in a curious, bemused fashion. Dean walked over to the light switch and flipped it, bathing the room in a warm, slightly orange glow.

 

"Sam?" Sam said nothing, just tilted his head in the opposite direction and smiled. Smiled in a completely un-Sam like way. Dean advanced in, his breathing shallow, his fists clenched. "Sammy?"

 

"Dean -"

 

Dean threw up an arm, stopping Bobby and peered down at his younger brother. Sam looked back up, unblinking. His right eye was blue, ice blue. Like Castiel's. Like Lucifer's.

 

No.

 

Hesitantly Dean moved his arm towards Sam. His eyes flicked towards Dean hand but did nothing, the soft, bemused smile still on his face. Slowly, so slowly, Dean let out a trembling breath and spread his fingers over Sam's right cheek. Sam gave no indication of feeling anything. He was cold. Not cold as in dead, or cold as in chilly, but like ice - like liquid nitrogen, it burned.

 

Dean snatched his hand away.

 

"Lucifer."

 

"In a sense."

 

Dean wanted to haul his ass off the couch and throw him down, hit him and keep on hitting. He couldn't. Wouldn't. "You bastard."

 

"We're both here. Both one."

 

"Bullshit."

 

"We are, trust me." The voice is all Sam, soft, poetic, and filled with maudlin.

 

Dean snorted. He wanted to scream. It was his brother; his _everything_. All wrapped up and welded to the thing he held responsible for all the crap in their lives.

 

"Michael is trapped." That voice is Lucifer. Hard, sympathetic, cocksure. "Only room enough for one in that cage."

 

Figured.

 

"We didn't want to lose another older brother. So we came back. Back for you."

 

Dean laughed, choked on it.

 

"How can we prove our alliance to you?"

 

Dean shrugged. Angry, hopeful, confused. He watched as Sam? Lucifer? Samifer climbed off the couch, circled him, looking him up and down, assessing. Snapped his fingers, the sound bounced and echoed through Dean's brain, and then his gaze snapped to the newest occupant of the room. A girl, maybe twenty, with jet black eyes. Samifer stalked towards her, seized hold of her shoulder and pressed a hand to her forehead, she jerked, gurgled, and screamed. Her head tipped back, mouth and eyes wide in agony, she convulsed violently in his hands as a bright light, orange interwoven with blue, spewed forth from her eyes and mouth before she collapsed to the ground.

 

Sweet motherfucking Jesus.

 

"Christ," Bobby breathed, looking at the girl.

 

"Watch your tongue, Robert, words can hurt." Samifer tilted his head and pivoted on the spot, turning to Dean. "As you can see, we're useful to you."

 

Dean just nodded dumbly, staring at the body.

 

"We'll do anything for you, Dean."

 

~*~

 

Dean slowly blinked his eyes open, the world falling into place. He wiped his eyes and turned his head to glance at the clock only to find a pair of mismatching eyes unnervingly close to his face.

 

"Jesus!" Dean yelped, scrambling back.

 

A frown marred Samifer's face for a moment before it vanished and was replaced with a curious look. "Do you often dream about sex with Samuel?"

 

"I... What?"

 

"Your dreams. They were filled with thoughts of this body."

 

Dean frowned. "Okay, rule one, no looking inside my head."

 

Samifer nodded. "Very well."

 

It had been an awkward two and a half hours after the exorcism. A shaky resetting of lives. It seemed that Samifer, who rather enjoyed being called that, Dean learned, wasn't lying. Samifer really would do anything for Dean, to a reasonable extent. Dean had also learned he couldn't distinguish one from the other anymore, that they were intertwined, and no matter how much it pissed him off he was now also big brother to Lucifer.

 

He was so officially fucked.

 

"We're well aware of the fact that there was sexual intercourse between this body and your own before the fall into the Pit, we weren't aware you wished to resume such actions."

 

"Okay, rule two, no referring to yourself as 'the body' that's reserved for dead things."

 

There was a nod and Dean nodded in return, climbing out of bed and padding his way towards the bathroom, perfectly aware he had an amalgamated younger brother on his heels. He watched Samifer in the mirror as Samifer watched him brush his teeth and then floss. He lowered his gaze when he started to undress for his shower and the other occupant of the bathroom didn't budge.

 

"Do you mind?"

 

"Pardon?"

 

"I'm about to get naked."

 

"We're aware. We've seen you naked before."

 

" _Sam's_ seen me naked before. The... angelic half of you hasn't."

 

"Our memories are combined. Or is that we nearly destroyed the world?"

 

Dean turned, finding the taller man slumped against the door frame, looking dejected. Fucking damnit, younger brothers always looked so pathetic when they thought you were mad at them. Even if you were, because yeah, half of his younger brother was the motherfucking **Devil** and sure he wanted to ram his face into the sink a few times, but it was Sam's face. He liked Sam's face.

 

He was going to regret this. "Alright, you can..." Dean twitched, trying to fight it. "You can join me in the shower."

 

The beaming smile was so utterly Sam.

 

He was so completely and totally fucked.

 

~*~

 

Dean decided having Lucifer as part of Sam wasn't such a bad thing. That guy gave excellent head. And he was aggressive. Dean liked aggressive. A lot. Also Samifer ate meat like a man, none of Sam's pansy ass salad and wheat grass shit.

 

It earned him points.

 

Muddy boots on the backseat of the Impala, that lost him points. Lots of points.

 

But he was flexible in bed, so Dean figured they were about even.

 

"Can I kill a nun?"

 

Okay, maybe not.

 

~*~

 

"Bobby says there's a job in Texas, sounds like Sucubi."

 

Samifer was sprawled out on the bed, just wearing jeans, lazily reading Dante's _Divine Comedy_. "Alright."

 

Dean watched as he shrugged into a shirt and jacket and then slid on his boots. He marked his place in the book and slid the book into his shoulder bag before approaching Dean, index and middle finger outstretched.

 

"Hey, woah." Dean dodged the fingers. "What're you doing?"

 

"Taking us to Texas?"

 

"We're driving."

 

Samifer's face clouded over in distaste. He didn't like driving. He whined, often incessantly, like a bitch, about how it was so slow and confining. "But..."

 

"Driving!"

 

Dean didn't wait for a reply, instead just turned and trooped out of the room.

 

"May I drive."

 

"No."

 

"But..."

 

"Rule one. I drive."

 

"You said rule one was not to intrude on your thoughts."

 

"New rule one."

 

Sigh. "Very well."

 

Dean shot his amalgamated brother a look from above the hood of the Impala, smirking good-naturedly. He mused, took a chance. "Bitch."

 

"Jerk."


End file.
